An Aristocrat's Regret
by Wisdom Witch
Summary: All aristocrat Roderich Edelstein ever wanted was to live a long and profitable life in peace, solitude and tranquility. He had certainly never expected to become mentor to two children, fall for a nosy, yet irresistible Hungarian maid, befriend an irritable Spaniard, hire an insubordinate staff, and obtain a dark secret kept under wraps for far too long. Slight AusHun/PruHun.
1. Of Propositions and Decisions

**A/N: Hello. Now I know I haven't been active on FF in a while, and though I should have been focusing on my current stories, I couldn't help but write this. I thought this idea was one not often used by authors on fanfiction, so I decided to use it myself. For the purpose of this story, Rome's character will only be referred to as "Mr. Vargas" or "Romulus" for the time-being, and everyone will refer to Feliciano as a female until he hits puberty (even Vargas), thus his name will temporarily be changed to "Feliciana" and the story will use feminine prefixes up until he reaches his adolescence.**

**I hope you all enjoy x)**

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**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

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_**Chapter One: Of Propositions and Decisions**_

Fingers dancing melodically across the keys of his grand piano, the Austrian musician kept his head bowed low and his oddly-coloured eyes fixed on his moving hands, concentrating hard on what he was doing. He allowed his eyelids to close over his blue-purplish eyes for a moment, listening to the soft tune that he was composing. He continued to play with all his heart and soul, remaining undisturbed. Even though he was so immersed in his music, so mesmerised by it, he did not fail to notice the door to the music room creaking open. He could vaguely hear someone entering the room over his music, the door silently shutting behind the mysterious intruder. He paid it no heed, merely cruising his fingers over the ivory keys in an eloquent fashion, producing a delightful sound. He peeled his eyelids back, revealing those beautiful, exquisite eyes of his. He noted with some dissatisfaction that his glasses were slowly unhooking themselves from behind his ears and slipping down the bridge of his nose. Suppressing a huff, the Austrian merely craned his head up ever-so-slightly, never ceasing his movements. He had hoped that the action would cause the glasses to slide back into place. Luckily for him, they did just that and he contented himself with resuming his actions.

After a few more minutes of playing softly in tranquillity, the brunet ended his masterpiece with a few final notes. He let the final one draw itself out, his finger pressed down hard on the key. The sound that emitted was loud and shrill, enough to make goosebumps push their way up to his skin, although that did nothing to faze the pianist. After the noise had completely died out, he let his arm drop to the side. The sound of hands clapping animatedly made the Austrian composer freeze. Getting over his surprise far more quickly than was normal, the musician struck another chord and recommenced playing a harmonious tune, starting up all over again.

The clapping died down and the glasses-adorned man could clearly make out light footsteps heading his way. Even though he could not see who had entered, there was no mistaking that alluring scent that seemed to emanate from the newcomer. He gave a small, quiet whiff and her beguiling aroma instantly filled his nostrils, intoxicating his mind. Before she had even reached him, he could feel her soothing presence, making the hairs on the back of his neck rise and prickle instinctively. She was so close now, her body leaning forward to press against his back as her slender arms coiled around his neck from behind. She bent down a little, her body pushing away as she rested her chin atop his left shoulder and tilted her head slightly to the side, causing her brown, wavy locks to cascade down one side of her beautiful face like a waterfall, her right cheek softly brushing against his left one.

"Herr Edelstein," her voice was soft and mollifying, barely above a whisper, "There's someone here to see you."

Her only response was a hum of acknowledgement from the Austrian pianist, prompting the picturesque (in his eyes, at least) woman's eyebrows to crease into a light frown.

"Herr Edelstein, sir, you have a visitor," the man continued to ignore her, making the woman tighten her arms around him, "Herr Edelstein, did you hear what I said?"

"I did." was his simple reply. He could feel the maid behind him loosen her hold on him ever-so-slightly.

"Good," she smiled, an evil little glint appearing in her vibrant, green eyes, "Because he'd like a little chat with you."

"Who would?" the musician queried, never ceasing his movements as his hands wandered across the piano.

The woman ignored his question, the corners of her lips rising somewhat, "He's also staying for dinner, so it would be most pleasant if you were to wear something nice this evening," she suggested (despite the fact that her beloved musician always wore something nice) and then added as an afterthought, "Sir."

The Austrian brunet didn't listen to her, completely and utterly enraptured in his music.

"Roderich." she petitioned, knowing that he hadn't been paying attention.

"Hmm?"

"You shouldn't keep your guest waiting. He's- he's an important man." the maid said, pushing away from him slightly as she stood upright. Roderich's fine-tuned ears could make out the barely suppressed bubbling anticipation in her tone. At the cocked eyebrow he threw her way, she hastily elaborated in a most vague manner, "A... friend of your father's. Or so he claims to be."

"My father had many 'friends', Fräulein Héderváry," Roderich spoke bitterly and distastefully, his mauve-coloured eyes locked on the piano, "You'll have to be more precise."

The Hungarian cleared her throat, "He says he was very close to him- that they were old associates."

The Austrian didn't reply for quite some time. His brows were furrowed in concentration as his facial expression morphed into a contemplative one for the briefest moment. "What did he say his name was?" Roderich inquired indifferently.

"Vargas. Romego- no, Romeo Vargas. Wait- Remus- hang on, Romigo- oh dear, that's not it either!" the maid huffed in annoyance, "It definitely started with a 'Rom'-"

"Romulus." Roderich supplied so quietly that the Hungarian maid had to strain to hear it, barely detecting the acridness in his tone.

She snapped her fingers together, "That's the one! Signore Vargas told me he had to speak with you- that it was of the utmost importance." the maid eyed the musician from the corner of her eyes like an attentive hawk, not missing the way his shoulders slowly tensed up, "I think you'd better go now, if you don't mind my saying. It wouldn't be wise to keep him waiting... sir."

Roderich didn't respond to that in words. Instead, he set his jaw and narrowed his eyes slightly at his piano keys, purposely avoiding his maid's burning gaze. He inhaled silently only to release a loud exhale. Despite trying desperately not to get riled up about _his _sudden visit, the composer found it painfully (and surprisingly) difficult not to. He couldn't help the inexplicably mounting anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach, nor the utter loathing boiling his blood and rising up in him like bile. Being the composed man that he was, Roderich didn't make his emotions apparent, instead opting to keep on that closed-off look that his Hungarian maid both hated and loved so much. Swallowing down his surprising fury, Roderich attempted to perish all thoughts of the horrible monster undoubtedly waiting for him in his very home. He found it difficult to completely ignore the numerous images of the Italian popping up in his mind, once again reminding him of exactly why he hated him so.

A dainty hand being placed on his shoulder snapped the Austrian out of his reverie. His eyes slowly trailed up the arm to stare into the pretty face of his maid. She looked down at him with a knowing look, her expression a mix of sombreness and understanding. "I can stay with you, if you wish." she offered.

The Austrian seemed as if he were momentarily mulling over her proposition, but later shook his head, "I appreciate the offer, Elizabeta, however I believe that this affair will be a private one," his mauve eyes bored into her green ones, "but thank-you all the same."

Elizabeta flashed him a sweet smile. Roderich attempted a feeble one in return, but failed miserably, his 'smile' resembling more of a grimace.

"Shall I inform him that you'll speak with him now?"

Roderich paused, biting back the urge to vomit, "Yes... of course."

Elizabeta turned to leave, her light green dress that matched her eyes swaying from side to side in perfect unison with the movements of her legs. Roderich watched her go before turning his attention back to his piano. Repositioning his hands so that they hovered above the keys, Roderich struck up a melancholic tune to go with how he felt about his current dilemma. The music helped ease his worries and successfully managed to push back his wayward emotions to the back of his mind, where he hoped he wouldn't have to acknowledge them. He could barely hear the door open over his music, which was steadily getting faster-paced and growing louder, and could just make out the sound of a few pairs of feet scuffle inside- definitely more than two. Roderich's eyebrows creased into a slight frown. That was odd. Had Vargas not come alone?

Trying his best to prolong his melody, Roderich fixed all his attention on what he was doing. He was helplessly stalling, and he knew that Elizabeta knew that too. Whether Vargas knew was a different matter altogether, although Roderich had the nagging suspicion that Vargas might have some inkling as to why this particular piece was taking so long to finish. He heard the audible sound of someone clearing their throat with an obvious underlying tone of impatience (he had no doubt that it was Elizabeta) and quickly realised that he was already pushing the limit. Suppressing a sigh, he toned it down and slowly ended the song with a single note. No sooner had he finished than what sounded like a booming clap of thunder echoed around the room, reverberating off the walls. A few steps were taken towards him as the clapping continued, but the Austrian musician made no move to turn around and greet his guest.

"Bravo, Herr Edelstein. Truly, you have a gift." a voice that belonged to none other than Romulus Vargas complimented, the forcefully fake and cheery voice almost enough to make Roderich cringe. Almost.

"Thank-you." Roderich thanked curtly, still keeping his back to the Italian. He could see the pondering expression on his maid's face out of the corner of his eye, and could tell that she had caught his glance. The two made brief eye contact, purplish-blue to lush green, and Roderich inclined his head ever-so-slightly. It was barely noticeable, but it was still enough for the Hungarian woman to catch. Roderich was certain that this only passed between the two and that Vargas hadn't noticed. After all, based on what he'd been told, the man wasn't very perceptive. Or, at least, didn't appear to be.

Elizabeta politely excused herself and slipped out of the room. Roderich had a sneaky suspicion that she would be listening at the door.

A few more steps were taken towards him before an uneasy, awkward silence descended upon them. As the minutes drew themselves out, the quiescence seemed to stretch, reaching each and every corner of the room. Roderich knew very well that neither he nor his uninvited guest knew how to break the silence, both completely lost on how to address one another. They were both waiting for the other to speak, the only sound that could be heard a- was that a sniffle? Roderich's brows knitted together in slight confusion, his nose wrinkling. He knew that there was someone other than him and Vargas in the room, but he tried to contain his curiosity and not allow it to get the best of him.

"It's a beautiful day today." Vargas commented, breaking the tense silence. Roderich suppressed the urge to snort in ridicule. Really? That was the best the petty fool could do? Strike up a conversation using the weather as his source material? How trifling of him.

Yet despite his narcissistic thoughts, Roderich lifted his eyes to gaze out of the window. Grey skies were forming overhead and it looked like it was about to rain. Beautiful day indeed.

"Right you are, Signore." the Austrian muttered dryly, barely containing his sarcasm. There was another tense pause, broken only by the quiet sniffling of whoever had accompanied Vargas here. If Roderich didn't know any better, he'd think it was a child. However, he did know better; for as long as the Austrian had known Vargas, the Italian man had never shown any interest in children, often disregarding them as merely necessary-yet-useless tools needed in life. He had always avoided children at all costs, clearly uncomfortable in their presence. He refused to be associated with them, let alone seen with them. There had once been a rumour that ever since the disappearance of his wards, the man was uncomfortable around children. Roderich could not for a fact claim these allegations to be true, but they were undoubtedly intriguing. To say that the Italian had brought a child with him would be completely asinine, as the man evidently harboured a strong dislike towards the little creatures.

That was probably the only thing in common the man shared with Roderich.

Roderich could hear Vargas turn around and spew some Italian mumbo-jumbo to whoever it was. They immediately shut up. Vargas repositioned himself so that he was directly in front of one of the windows, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Oh, I see those Edelweiss flowers you seem to be so fond of have blossomed spectacularly. Are they faring any better than last year?"

Roderich answered indifferently, "Not particularly."

"Ah, I'm sure they will. They look so beautiful, I simply cannot fathom how you keep them in such condition. I myself am a bit of a green thumb, however my flowers simply pale in comparison to yours," Roderich's upper lip curled at Vargas' words, not at all fooled by his sycophancy, "Of course, I doubt someone of such... standing such as yourself would dare get his hands dirty tending to plants. I assume that one of your maids does it for you? Perhaps it is that kindly one who showed me in. What was her name again? Ah, yes! Miss Héderváry!" Vargas exclaimed and Roderich couldn't help but feel the irrational pang of betrayal dealt to his heart. While there was nothing wrong with a maid informing outsiders of her name, he couldn't believe that Elizabeta would be so imprudent as to so readily give away her surname to someone she knew nothing about, _especially _to the likes of Romulus Vargas. Vargas continued (much to Roderich's chagrin), "She certainly is a lovely woman, isn't she? Wouldn't expect it from a mere commoner such as herself, but she's a charming lady. She isn't what I would call beautiful, but then again, she's isn't so bad either. Not much to look at, I'll admit, but she's hardly repulsive- a pretty girl, although far from my type." Roderich didn't know whether to be adulated on behalf of Elizabeta or angered by his semi-demeaning comments. Vargas resumed his incessantly pointless, inane babbling, "In any case, your buds have bloomed into gorgeous flowers. They really go well with your garden. I am completely enamoured- say, would it be alright if I took some back to Rome? I dare say they'd add a nice touch to the luscious green of my-"

"Pardon my intrusion, Signore Vargas," Roderich interrupted shortly, twisting around in his seat for the first time to finally look at Vargas through uninterested, half-lidded eyes covered behind rimless glasses, ready to address him face-to-face, "but as much as I appreciate and take pride in your kindly compliments about my dear Edelweiss, I assume that you did not come all this way for idle chatter."

Vargas' painfully forced smile became more strained, the barely noticeable wrinkles around his eyes creasing slightly, "Ah, no. No, I did not." Roderich waited with feigned patience for the man to continue, unknowingly bracing himself for his following words. Vargas exhaled audibly from his nose, his chocolate brown eyes boring holes into Roderich's purple ones, "I have someone I'd like you to meet," before Roderich could question him, Vargas turned his head to the side and beckoned someone over, "_Venite, figli_."

Two pairs of feet shifted from foot to foot, scuffling forwards ever-so-slowly.

"_Venite a me, i bambini_." Vargas waved them over, trying to make his voice sound as soothing as possible. Roderich thought it was the very opposite of comforting, however his thoughts did not seem to be shared by his other uninvited guests. Heavy footfalls instantly rushed forwards, and Roderich craned his head back to catch a glimpse of who the mysterious guests were. He was met with a dizzying blur, causing him to blink and readjust his eyeglasses, completely stupefied. He saw a little midget clutching Vargas' right leg with tiny, chubby fists, clinging onto it like a lifeline. There was something else on the other side of Vargas, and so Roderich redirected his gaze to yet another midget, currently holding onto Vargas' arm for dear life. This, however, did not catch the Austrian off-guard; he had clearly heard two pairs of feet, not one, so this wasn't overly shocking. What did surprise him, however, was that it was two little children (not midgets, now that he really looked at them), appearing to be no older than toddlers (which startled Roderich, seeing as they had been so quiet). They were both brunets, with one having a lighter shade of brown and the other a darker one. They each had an odd, unruly curl popping out of their otherwise tamed hair, sticking out on the opposite side of each other. One of them had brown eyes identical to Vargas, while the other child had a lighter shade (although her eyes were squinted, so it was hard to tell). Both of them donned matching expressions of pure terror. One of them, the lighter-haired one, buried her face in the man's right leg while the other trembled at his side. They were both adorned in white.

Countless questions immediately formed inside Roderich's brain as he struggled to grasp the fact that there were two, traumatised toddlers standing shock-still in his music room. There were many questions that came to mind, however there was only a single prominent one that Roderich could not ignore.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Roderich blurted out before he could restrain himself.

"I swear to you, dear friend, this is no joke," Vargas suddenly appeared defensive. Roderich ignored Vargas' little slip-up (he was no friend of his), instead opting to pay attention to what the bumbling idiot had to say, "These are my darling grandchildren-"

"Grandchildren?" Roderich echoed incredulously, his voice quiet (as was his default shocked-voice), "I wasn't even aware you had any heirs!"

Roderich's statement was met with pained, dark eyes staring back at him. "It's complicated." Vargas grimaced, looking incredibly uncomfortable and slightly constipated. Good, "See, Lovino and Feliciana- I found them when they were but mere infants. They'd been abandoned, left outside to die. I took them in out of the goodness of my heart-" Roderich rolled his eyes, "-and have raised them since then."

Roderich gave the children a once-over before remarking disdainfully, "They resemble you."

Vargas gave off a nod, "Yes. It... it is my belief that I am indeed their biological grandfather."

Roderich cocked a sceptical eyebrow, "That's quite the assumption, especially when the only proof you actually have is that all three of you look alike."

"It is more than just appearances that we share," Vargas insisted indignantly, "I feel a bond with her- a bond that can only be shared through familial ties," Roderich pointedly ignored the fact that Vargas had said 'her' and not 'them', "It's difficult to explain; I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"Oh?" Roderich squinted slightly, "And why is that?"

"Because your father-" Vargas stopped short as Roderich's eyes darkened ten shades. Roderich glared at him as if daring him to so much as utter another word about his father. The Italian's smile faltered at the cold, stoic expression that the Austrian wore, his eyes being the only thing that revealed his true emotions, purple orbs narrowed with murderous intent.

Vargas coughed awkwardly and shook his head, a little smile creeping up on his surprisingly youthful face, "Never mind. What counts is that I know that they are my grandchildren; that's all that matters."

Roderich stopped glaring (it hurt his eyes...) and didn't even bother with the eye roll this time.

"Even though I have cared for them in the past, I find myself in a bit of a bind." Vargas admitted ashamedly, his eyes flicking down at Roderich as his long arms wrapped around his grandchildren, pulling them in close.

"Do tell." Roderich muttered sardonically. In spite of his usual indifferent attitude towards the world, Roderich couldn't help the spike of curiosity he felt at the prospect of what the oaf had gotten himself into now.

"I am regretful to say that I am no longer able to care for them."

His blunt statement was met with a whimper from the girl- who Roderich assumed was Feliciana- and a mortified shiver from the boy.

"May I inquire as to why that is?" Roderich asked in a bored manner. Everything that came regurgitating out of his mouth was just for formalities, after all. He certainly wasn't intrigued in the slightest. Nope. Not at all.

Vargas' eyes darted from Feliciana to Lovino uneasily, "I believe now is not the time."

So Vargas didn't want his precious grandchildren to know why he wouldn't be able to look after them anymore. Interesting. That could only mean that Vargas had been involved in something more sinister this time. _Oh Vargas_, Roderich thought with some amount of cruel satisfaction, _What have you done now?_

Despite his sadistically gleeful musings, Roderich's critical gaze did not leave the Italian for a second, "I see."

"No matter what my reasons for being unable to rear my grandchildren are, it doesn't change the fact that I no longer can. Truth be told, I'm not quite sure of what to do."

"So you seek my guidance?" Roderich sneered tauntingly, enjoying the look of horror that morphed on Vargas' face. He knew that the Italian was much too proud to ask for advice from anyone, let alone someone like him.

What a fool.

"No, it's not that, it's- it's complicated. I _can't _look after them anymore, no matter how much I want to," Vargas released his tight grip on Lovino to run a hand through his hair. Roderich was still surprised that the children didn't make a single sound. Vargas gestured at his grandchildren and sighed in exasperation, "You see my dilemma here, don't you?"

"I can't honestly say that I can," Roderich replied softly, finding it stunning how much he enjoyed toying with Vargas, "You'll have to elaborate."

Vargas sent him a pleading look. Roderich responded with an amusedly cold one.

"Please. I just need to find them a caretaker."

"I understand that. However, I'm still not quite sure what all of this has to do with me. Pray tell, why did you come here?"

At Vargas' obvious hesitance, Roderich's eyes narrowed. "Is it because you want me to find them a home?" he prompted, "Is it because you want me to lend you money?"

"No, it's not that-"

"Then what is it?" Roderich cut in sharply. He hated acting so impolitely, but his patience was wearing thin. He was bored and he wanted nothing more than for Vargas to get out of his house with his 'grandchildren' and leave him in peace.

Vargas glanced down at Feliciana and Lovino, a guilty expression on his face. His beseeching chocolate brown eyes flicked back up to meet with Roderich's mauve-coloured, unrelenting ones. The elder man parted his lips and uttered, "_Feliciana, Lovino; Potrebbe aspettare fuori per un momento? Il nonno non ci vorrà molto._"

The two children by his side gripped onto him tightly, the girl releasing a loud wail. Roderich scowled. He watched through unamused eyes as Vargas lowered himself to their level and muttered what he assumed were words of consolation. It seemed to work, as they slowly eased their grip on him and gave little nods of understanding, sniffling as they did so.

How it repulsed the aristocrat.

Vargas glanced up at Roderich, "Is there any way for you to summon one of your maids?"

Roderich resisted the urge to scrunch his nose up and queried, "Why ever would you want me to call for my maids?"

"I need someone to look after the children. I was thinking that we could, ah, continue this... in private." Vargas informed smoothly, his eyes meeting with Roderich's, telling the musician what his words did not.

Cocked eyebrow set firmly in place, Roderich allowed the corner of his lips to twitch up to form a half-smirk, "But of course."

~.~.~.~.~

"So this is why you came to me." Roderich stated blankly, completely devoid of all emotion as he leaned forwards, resting his elbows on the piano keys and cupping his chin, stroking it with an air of thoughtfulness.

Vargas fidgeted slightly (an action which was most idiosyncratic of him), parting his lips to confirm, "It is what I believe to be best."

Roderich couldn't stop the snort of ridicule that escaped him, "You think it for the best to leave behind your precious _grandchildren_ to be looked after by the second son of your rival?" at Vargas' hesitance, Roderich assessed, "You really are a fool."

Vargas glared slightly, and Roderich immediately knew that he had touched a nerve.

He smirked.

"Believe me when I say this, Herr Edelstein, but I know that you wouldn't so much as think of harming them."

"Oh?" Roderich couldn't help the intrigued amusement that he subconsciously conveyed, "And why is that?"

"Because you would have nothing to gain from it." Vargas stated plainly, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.

Roderich pointed out, "I would have nothing to gain from taking in your grandchildren either."

"One would think that," Vargas commented, a knowing twinkle in his eyes, "but one would be wrong."

"How so?" Roderich questioned, taking his elbows off the piano keys and placing his folded hands on his lap dutifully, "Do tell me, Signore," the aristocrat leered tauntingly, "What's in it for me?"

"A favour."

Roderich almost burst out laughing.

Almost.

"A favour?" Roderich repeated incredulously, "What favour would I ever possibly need of _you_?"

"As you are well aware, I am one of the most powerful men in the area," Vargas appeared pensive for a moment, staring out of the large windows that lined the walls of the music room, "And with such power comes responsibility. And responsibility, Herr Edelstein, is something that garners respect. With respect, I am able to obtain favours. And with such favours, I am able to offer some," Vargas smiled, almost bitterly as he noted, "And a favour seems to be exactly what you need."

Roderich stared at Vargas through cold eyes, "Care to be more elaborate, Signore?"

"I'm merely concerned, Herr Edelstein," Vargas allowed a smirk to grace his face as he uttered, "about your financial state."

Roderich's mauve-coloured eyes narrowed into slits, "My financial state is my business and mine alone. Besides," Roderich tilted his head upwards, sticking his nose up in the air, "I have money."

"Really?" Vargas feigned surprise at his answer, smiling with mock-warmth, "Because I've heard otherwise."

Roderich glowered in derision, "What you may or may not have heard is of no concern of mine, the fact remains that I am in no need of your money."

Vargas shrugged nonchalantly, "Suit yourself. However, if you are perfectly happy with what you have now, then you always have the option to call in another favour," Vargas' facial expression suddenly morphed into a deathly serious one, and the man tilted his head to look at Roderich, "This is a reasonable bargain, Herr Edelstein. Do not make the foolish mistake of turning it down."

"A single favour in exchange for rearing two bastards not of my blood, a reasonable bargain?" Roderich echoed incredulously, "Pardon me, Signore, but I don't think much of your reasoning."

Vargas proposed, "Well, think of it this way: if you want no one to find out about what really happened to your dear brother, the late Gilbert Beilshmidt, then I suggest you take me up on my offer and be done with it."

It seemed that Vargas, too, seemed to be running out of patience.

Unable to think of anything else to say, the usually sharp-witted aristocrat corrected, "Half-brother."

"Oh, that's right, I am terribly sorry. Your half-brother." Vargas amended, smirking triumphantly. "Yes, should you want to keep his death a secret, then you can always accept my proposition."

"Resorting to blackmail, Signore? How low you have sunk..."

"It is indeed regrettable that I have to resort to such things, but it seems to be the only thing that could make you see sense. As much as I hate to admit it, I am growing rather desperate-"  
"Then find someone else," Roderich interjected brusquely, all traces of feigned courtesy gone, "I am most certainly not suited to cater to the whims of mere children-"  
"I can think of no safer place for them. Think, Roderich," Vargas implored, ignoring Roderich's disgust at the informal use of his name, "You are the last remaining heir to the Beilshmidt fortune, which will all be yours in due time, and a very influential one at that. Here, they would be safe under your surveillance, with no potential enemies able to step foot upon your land. I cannot fathom a more secure place for my grandchildren to grow up in." Vargas informed, "You have to take them in. Otherwise... well, let's just say the consequences will be severe."

"Is that a threat, Signore Vargas?" Roderich inquired, the facade of amusement masking his annoyance.

"It's a promise."

"Hmm," Roderich hummed, "And what if I were to, say, sell them into slavery as soon as you were gone? Dump them? Mistreat them?"

Vargas seemed at a loss, and Roderich felt temporarily triumphant, until he replied, "You could always hand them to the care of your maids. All you need to do is see to it that they're fed, healthy, and educated."

Roderich leered, "I don't need to do anything," his eyes narrowed slightly as he reminded, "Keep in mind that I have not yet accepted your proposition."

"But you will." Vargas assessed knowingly.

"How are you so sure?" Roderich queried, squinting at him, "Because frankly, I have no intention of doing so."

"Even after what I said I'd do concerning your half-brother?" at Roderich's glare, Vargas smirked, "Yes, I thought you might find that troubling."

"What happened to that feeble-minded idiot was his fault and his alone. I had no part in it."

"Ah, so you are still in denial," Vargas smiled bitterly, "How quaint."

"Listen Vargas, I am having trouble understanding why you are so adamant in forcing me to look after your burdens," Roderich promptly changed the subject, "The least you could do is tell me why."

Although startled at the swift change of subject, Vargas readily answered, "I already told you. You could provide them with safety-"

"I meant why you are giving them up in the first place."

"That... is classified."

"Oh? So you expect me to provide asylum for them for goodness knows how long without knowledge of why I'm doing it?"

"Precisely."

"That's absurd!" Roderich protested.

"Herr Edelstein, perhaps the day will come when I will be able to reveal my reasoning for being absent in their lives, but that day is not today."

"If that is the case, then I believe this conversation is over."

"So you'll take them in."

"No, I won't. In fact, I won't even consider the idea," Roderich turned back to his piano, dismissing, "I trust you can find your way out."

Vargas frowned, "You're serious?"

"Very much so." Roderich glowered, daring Vargas to contradict him.

Vargas awkwardly cleared his throat, conceding, "Very well. If that is your decision," Vargas made his way towards him, giving him a pat on the shoulder, "I'll let you think it over."

"There's nothing to think over-"

"And we shall resume this conversation after dinner. Herr Edelstein." Vargas bowed mockingly before making his exit, leaving behind the musical aristocrat to ponder over his final words.

"Dinner?" Roderich whispered to himself, his eyebrows creasing into a light frown.

What did Vargas mean by 'dinner'?

A knock on the door interrupted his musings, his face morphing into a scowl, "Come in."

"Herr Edelstein?" a feminine voice petitioned curiously.

Roderich visibly relaxed, "Fräulein Hédérváry?"

"I just came to tell you that dinner will be ready soon."

_Dinner...?_

_But that meant-_

Roderich's eyes widened.

_Fuck._

**A/N: Pretty lame ending, I admit, but I hope it was decent enough for a first chapter. If people are interested in reading more, I'll be sure to continue this and update on a regular basis. Constructive criticism is much appreciated, as is any kind of review.**

**Translations:**

_**Venite a me, I bambini- Come to me, my children**_

_**Venite, figli- Come, children**_

**_Potrebbe aspettare fuori per un momento? Il nonno non ci vorrà molto.- Do you think you could leave for a moment? Grandpa won't be long._**

**Sorry if any of the translations are wrong. I've only recently began studying Italian and may have a bit of trouble with it. If I made any mistakes, please feel free to tell me.**

**Have a nice weekend~!**


	2. Of Threats and Regrets

_**Chapter Two- Of Threats and Regrets**_

Dinner was a long and awfully tense affair that evening.

The dining room had been plagued with an overbearing atmosphere, a certain air of oppressiveness weighing down upon all its occupants. Nary a sound was heard, with the occasional exception of the slight tinkering of cutlery as the host's unwanted guest eagerly dug in, slicing through his sirloin steak with utmost ease. Roderich's own food had yet to be touched, his hands instead folded neatly on his lap, his eyes glaring down at the seemingly succulent meal before him. It both looked and smelled delicious, and yet the Austrian musician had long since lost his appetite.

He could hear someone fidget about in their chair, involuntarily causing it to scrape against the floor, followed by hushed mutters. Roderich had no doubt that it was one of the brats the foppish fool had brought along with him, and he vaguely wondered why they had even been coaxed into dining with a complete stranger when they could have just eaten in the kitchens, where they would have had half a dozen maids toiling after them.

A rather deliberate cough cut through the macabre-like silence as swiftly as a knife carved through cake.

Mauve-coloured eyes lifted slightly to meet those of Romulus Vargas, who was seated at the opposite end of the ridiculously long dining table, and eyeing the young aristocrat with barely suppressed intrigue. Roderich cocked a dark eyebrow, to which Vargas smiled.

"I fear I may have eaten a little too quickly," his chocolate-brown eyes twinkled mirthfully, "This is quite delectable. You'll have to thank your cooks for me."

"You can thank them yourself."

Vargas chuckled, "Ah, you are such a comical fellow," as if to prove an utter contradiction to that statement, Roderich regarded him through half-lidded eyes, his facial expression the very image of unamusement as his eyebrow twitched menacingly. Vargas didn't seem to notice this, instead pointing out, "Oh, but I see you haven't so much as touched a thing on your plate! Won't you try it?"

Roderich resisted the urge to snap a retort. There was something about the way Vargas spoke to him, something that eerily resembled condescension, as if he were the guest and Vargas, the host.

"I'm afraid it isn't quite to my taste," a bitter smile, "I'm more of a fish person myself."

A lie, of course; there were few types of fish that Roderich tolerated, let alone liked, and he did rather hold an affinity for fine meat (although generally preferred the vegetarian lifestyle, much to the astonishment of his peers). Of course, such trivial details would be unimportant to Vargas, and as such he need never know.

Vargas shot him a dubious look, "Oh, surely you don't believe that. It tastes absolutely heavenly, I am certain you'll find it to your liking-"

"I'd rather not." Roderich interjected, an underlying sense of impatience seeping through his words.

Vargas had the grace to look flabbergasted, "Why, you've barely eaten anything at all."  
"The soup was more than enough for me." Roderich forced a cold smile, his eyes sharp as they bored holes into Vargas' head.

Vargas watched him indecisively for a moment, as if unsure of what to say, before rolling a shoulder back in a half-shrug.

"A pity, that such a delicious meal has gone to waste." he relented regretfully, leaning backwards so that his back came into contact with the velvet padding of his ornate chair.

"I'm sure the hounds will appreciate it." Roderich informed coolly, much to Vargas' amusement.

"You have hounds?" he inquired, the evident curiosity present in his tone of voice but a mere semblance of genuineness.

"What sort of patrician would I be if I didn't?" Roderich countered in a vaguely bored manner.

"You'll have to show them to me some day. I'm sure the children will be well-acquainted with them soon enough." Vargas winked, although a tint of regret marred his statement. Roderich's teeth slowly grit together as one of said children's breath hitched and the other's hands clenched around fistfuls of tablecloth. It was clear to even someone as aloof as Roderich that they already knew of their alleged grandfather's intentions.

"I should think not." Roderich dabbed his mouth with a napkin, despite such an action being completely unnecessary.

"You do not intend for them to meet your dogs?"

Roderich briefly mulled over his response, parting his lips to reply, "Surely one as wise and experienced as yourself would know that it is little more than excoriable to permit children as young as these to go frolicking near hounds trained from birth to attack anyone other than myself and their caretaker."

Vargas scrutinised him for a while, watching him through emotionless eyes as he uttered, "But of course. How silly of me."

And with that, he went back to his dinner, indelicately stabbing his fork into a piece of steak and bringing it up to his slightly chapped lips, allowing it to brush over them before plopping it into his mouth.

Roderich's slowly narrowing eyes shifted to one of the two children seated on either side of the wealthy Italian, only to be regarded with a wary look in kind. Despite himself, Roderich found himself staring intently at the young child, the one whom he presumed to be the boy. The boy- Lovino, was it?- seemed to glower at him in a feeble attempt at hiding his obvious fear. Roderich merely glared back, his facial features giving no indication of his true emotions.

"_Herr Edelstein_?"

Roderich's attention snapped back to Vargas, who had been observing the muted interaction between his grandson and Roderich.

"Forgive me if I am mistaken," Vargas drawled, a pondering frown etched upon his face, "but if memory serves me right, you have two younger brothers, do you not?"

Roderich's jaw clenched, his stare morphing into a suspicious one, "I do."

"May I inquire as to where they are?"

"I dare say you'll find you can..." Roderich trailed off, his lips pursed to form a rigid line.

Vargas raised two hands so that they were level with his shoulders, his palms half-facing Roderich as he questioned, "After all, it does seem a bit odd that your brothers would not be dining with you. How old are they? Six and... twelve, was it?"

"Fourteen." Roderich corrected through gritted teeth.

Vargas failed to hide his shock, "Already?"

Roderich's upper lip curled into a snarl, but he remained silent.

"But perhaps the elder has taken- Ludwig, yes?" Roderich jerked his head forward slightly in confirmation, prompting Vargas to continue, "Perhaps he has taken Ludwig out to dine with him?"

Roderich suppressed a snort; he highly doubted that Basch would ever waste his _oh-so-_precious time with a six-year-old, regardless of whether or not said child was his brother. Ludwig was probably off somewhere with his governess, and who knows what Basch was up to. Not willing to relay this to Vargas, however, Roderich merely responded with a detached, "Perhaps."

"You mean you don't know?" Vargas' gaze indicated at a pointed accusation, much to Roderich's chagrin. He was about to brusquely question the man on what he was implying before suddenly coming to the brief realisation that this may just be the opportunity he was waiting for.

This was his chance to dissuade Vargas.

"Exactly," at Vargas' surprised countenance, Roderich pressed on, "It is of no business of mine what my brothers decide to do in their free time."

"Of which the youngest one is _six_." Vargas stressed.

"He has a governess." Roderich defended half-heartedly. Vargas eyed him for a moment, calculating, before realisation seemed to dawn on him. He smiled, feigning aloofness.

"Oh well, if he has a governess, I suppose that makes it acceptable." he conceded, finally laying off on that particular subject before moving on, "How well are they getting along with their studies?"

"Studies...?"

"Yes, studies. I'm very interested to know how well they're doing."

Roderich cocked a brow, "Ludwig's six."

"And you haven't put him to work yet?" Vargas queried incredulously.

"He is of noble blood. He has no need of work."

"But surely an educated man such as yourself would see to it that your brother himself is educated-"

"And I will," Roderich sipped at his wine, "When he comes of age."

Vargas clearly didn't think much of Roderich's logic, "Surely at six years old one is old enough to receive an education?"

"Surely," Roderich uttered coolly, "It is none of your business how I treat the subject of my brothers' education."

Vargas frowned, pondering, "Forgive me if I come off as impolite, but you don't seem to hold much fondness for your brothers."

Not for the first time that day, Roderich suppressed a snort, "Believe me, _Signore_, if you knew my brothers, you wouldn't be all too fond of them either."

"Hmm." Vargas resumed cutting into his steak, posing, "And do you take sufficient care of them?"

Roderich couldn't help the spark of rage he felt at Vargas' clear accusation. How dare that man pose such a disgusting question, as if he felt Roderich was inept to look after his own siblings?

Yet again, however, Roderich saw his opportunity and seized it.

"I have servants for that." he informed bitterly.

Vargas' dark eyes flickered up from his steak, "That you do, but for how much longer?"

Roderich stared at him in silence, his jaw clenching slightly. His financial issues had been a touchy subject as of late, and he certainly neither had the will nor the patience to tolerate Vargas' comments on the matter.

Eyes going back to his untouched meal, Roderich opted not to respond, instead daintily picking up his knife and fork and cutting through his meat.

~.~.~.~.~

Face clouded with mild irritation, Roderich stalked off down the hall, muttering incoherent curses under his breath. He occasional stopped in front of every other door, peering inside to check if it was indeed the room he was looking for, only to frown in disappointment when he found that it wasn't. Setting off in any which direction, Roderich wandered from place to place, at the very least seeking out one of the staff members for directions.

It was only by chance that he came upon the kitchens, after having descended into the lower levels of the manor, and was instantly overcome with the need to ask the cooks where he could find the lounge. Upon entrance, he was met with a very peculiar sight indeed.

He had certainly never expected to see Romulus Vargas, in all his ethereal glory, engaging himself in petty conversation with one of the staff members.

"-illing to provide me with a recipe? I must say, I enjoyed that dessert more than I'd care to admit." at the chef's hesitance, Vargas prompted, "I shall pay quite a hefty fee, if that is what you are so concerned about."

When the chef seemed to consider his solicitation, Roderich deemed it necessary to announce his presence.

"_Signore_, may I inquire as to what you are doing in my kitchen?"

The chef and his compeers all straightened up, greeting, "_Herr Edelstein_."

Roderich inclined his head in acknowledgement at the cooks before turning back to Vargas, cocked eyebrow in place.

"Why, I'm merely here to offer my compliments to the chef." Vargas offered him an incandescent smile.

"I see..." Roderich realised that he could not, in the face of this dilemma, ask where he could find the lounge of his own home in front of his late father's rival.

"I was just questioning this young fellow on whether or not he'd care to give me his recipe."

Roderich cocked his head to the side, staring intently at the chef, "And would you?"

The chef seemed hesitant, although he later shook his head in the negative upon noting his employer's darkened eyes.

Roderich appeared to approve, although the same could not be said for Vargas.

The elder Italian tutted, "What a shame. And I would have paid quite a bit for it, too."

Some of the cooks inconspicuously shot the chef looks of disappointment.

"_Did you want something, sir?_" the chef asked in German, pointedly ignoring the glares he received from his fellow cooks.

"_Directions to my lounge, if you please._" Roderich replied coolly, his eyes still trained on Vargas. The chef, more than used to Roderich's odd tendency to ask for directions, hastily told Roderich where the lounge could be found, Roderich hanging on to his every word.

"Thank-you." Roderich promptly thanked before excusing himself, turning on his heel and exiting the kitchens. He strode up the winding little staircase, panting a little when he reached the top (he wasn't exactly the energetic type). He followed the directions as best he could, until he hit a stump when he came to a sort of fork. Roderich narrowed his eyes. The chef hadn't mentioned he'd come across a three-way corridor.

Quite suddenly, the young aristocrat found that he couldn't quite recall the chef's following commands. Glowering slightly, Roderich once more turned on his heels and departed, marching at a significantly quicker pace. His head bowed low and his eyes downcast, Roderich walked so fast that he didn't notice a man emerge from one of the rooms, and promptly crashed into him. The impact hadn't been so hard, as Roderich hadn't quite yet picked up a run, but it was enough so that his nose started smarting in pain whilst the other man was shoved backwards slightly, attempting to regain his balance.

"Watch where you're going!" Roderich scowled, believing the man to be nothing more than a clumsy servant.

"If I recall correctly, it was you who bumped into me..." Vargas' voice filled the almost-empty corridor as the man straightened up, revealing the elder Italian in all his prime.

Roderich's lour did not dissipate, "Tell me _Signore_, do you make a habit out of appearing at the most inopportune times?"

Vargas chuckled, "Only when I truly need to."

Roderich harrumphed, "And you are in this particular corridor because...?"

"I've been waiting for you in the lounge, hoping we could discuss what we previously had a little more, but you were nowhere to be found. So naturally I left to come seek you out, but as it is, there was no need. You were able to find me perfectly fine all by yourself." Vargas' tone bordered on patronisation, but Roderich deigned not to remark on it.

Roderich pointed a long index finger at the door, "Do you mean to tell me that this is the lounge?"

Vargas frowned, "Of what I am aware..."

Roderich's face only hardened, "And why, pray tell, did you desire to see me now? We could have clearly spoken about this at a later-"

"I am afraid that we must speak of this immediately."

Roderich paused, unblinking, "Is there any particular reason or do you simply have somewhere to be?"

Vargas smiled, "As a matter of fact, I do have to get back soon enough, and I would greatly appreciate it if the children were to stay here tonight."

Roderich's eyebrows shot up as he echoed, "_Tonight?_"

"Let's take this inside, shall we?" Vargas reopened the door and stepped aside, waiting for Roderich to enter with an outstretched hand.

Expression completely blank, Roderich entered the room with silent steps, almost floating inside. He could hear Vargas close the door as he came in behind him. The aristocrat made a beeline for one of the armchairs, sinking into it when he reached his destination.

"Have a seat,_ Signore._" Roderich offered coolly, attempting to regain his authority as the host.

"Thank-you." Vargas thanked and lowered himself onto one of the velvet-lined sofas, his back gratefully melding with the couch, "Tell me, _mein Herr_," Vargas chirped suddenly, "How does a man get so easily lost in his own home?"

Roderich fought the blush that he felt tint his cheeks, replying simply, "I merely had too much on my mind. I suppose that in itself subconsciously affected my memory."

Vargas didn't seem convinced, but cocked his head to the side all the same, querying, "And what is it that weighed so heavily upon your mind that you would forget where to find but a simple lounge?"

Roderich didn't think much of his wording, but responded with a deep inhale, "I can honestly say, _Signore Vargas_, that I have given much thought to your proposition."

Vargas seemed pleased at this admittance, "And where is it that you stand?"

Roderich's oddly-coloured eyes flickered up to meet Vargas' brown ones, "I have given you my answer and have decided to stick by it."

Vargas' smile faltered, "...I'm sorry?"

"I have taken into account your little threat, and realise that, though my financial state has hit rock bottom, your once-vast influence is rapidly dissipating, and I can easily disperse your faulty rumours. You see," Roderich stood, drawing himself up to his full height to make himself appear as imposing as possible, "I do not take threats lightly."

Vargas grew sombre, "They need a place to go-"  
"And that place is not here." Roderich hissed through gritted teeth, startling the elder man.

"I can give you money," Vargas claimed, ignoring Roderich's snort of derision, "Do not pretend you have no need of it."

"Have I not told you before, _Signore_, that I am in no need of your petty charity?"

"It is not charity if you are doing me a favour in return." Vargas stressed, his desperation slipping through his once-cheerful mask.

"Charity or not, it would be an insult to my family if I were to willingly take the money of the man who played a vital role in my father's disappearance."

At Vargas' look of incredulity, Roderich smirked darkly.

"Did you honestly think I would be so blind as to not know?"

Vargas' eyes were impossibly enlarged, his face a deathly pale as he seemed to struggle coming up with the proper words, successfully rendered speechless, "I... I- how?"

Roderich's smirk widened by a fraction, "Whether my father is truly dead or not, I will never know. As his body was never found, and as dear Gilbert has... left us," Roderich fought the smile that he felt creeping up on his face, "I am the ruling Lord of Beilschmidt manor, regardless of whose name I chose to keep. And as a lord, it would be most unwise and cowardly of me to succumb to idle threats, threats that are not backed up with the reliable and concrete evidence needed for such accusations." Roderich took great pleasure in Vargas' haunted silence, continuing, "What you must know, _Signore_, is that I am not a man so easily controlled by others, despite your obvious beliefs. Should you dare spread that ghastly falsehood, I will not hesitate to exact my revenge in kind."

Vargas' face coloured, his eyes practically bulging from their sockets, "Are you threatening me?!"

….And there it was, that famous Vargas anger he had heard so much about. He had never before been blessed to see it, but it seemed the odds were in his favour after all.

Roderich smiled, "And if I am?"

Vargas glared, glared with so much contempt and hatred that the prideful Roderich almost cringed.

Almost.

"You are a despicable being, Edelstein."

Roderich was inclined to agree, "That I am. And what of it? Do you really wish to condemn your grandchildren to a life with such a 'despicable being'?"

"Of course I do not wish it!" Vargas snapped, a slight waver in his voice, "I have no choice! Your protection is what's best for them-!"

"And if you spread those rumours, they will have none." Roderich levelled Vargas with a glower of his own, "Either way, you lose."

Vargas seethed, "You don't need to take care of them yourself, there are enough maids who are more than up to the task for it! All I ask is that they are kept in this household, with the Beilschmidt family to protect them should any harm befall them. That is all. You need not get attached, need not bother with them, need not even so much as_ speak_ to them, if you so wish it, but I merely ask that they remain under your protection." Vargas stared at Roderich like a lost child, "Does that really trouble you as much as you insist it does?"

Roderich watched Vargas intently, scanning him up and down. He gazed into Vargas' beseeching eyes, narrowing his own slightly at the blatant show of weakness. How pathetic it was that the once mighty Romulus Vargas, the most powerful man in Central Europe, had been degraded to such a snivelling, piffling weakling. Roderich didn't say anything for quite some time, instead opting to let silence be his answer. However, Vargas didn't seem to be catching on, and so Roderich parted his lips to reply, "Yes."

Vargas' jaw slackened.

Roderich continued, "Yes, it does trouble me. Do you not think I have more things to worry about than two little snots running around the mansion?"

"Please."

"No. No, I do not accept your proposition."

Vargas' eyes narrowed into slits, "I am going to give you one more chance. Just one more. If you decline my solicitation, if you turn them away, I promise that I will make you regret it."

Roderich cocked a brow, "I am most amused by your admittedly bothersome persistence, but my answer remains the same. My, you really do need to learn to accept that not everything will sway your way simply because you so command it to do so. Learn to mature, won't you, my lord?"

This seemed to be the last straw for Vargas.

"How dare you! How dare you speak to me in such a way!"

"And how dare you, you who dares blackmail me inside my own home!" Roderich glowered, raising his voice a little.

"_Your_ home?" Vargas echoed incredulously, sneering mirthfully, "You, who keep the Edelstein name, dare call the Beilschmidt estate your home? You, the child who should have never been, the black sheep of the family, the sole brunet in a household of blonds, dare presume that you are truly a part of this once-mighty family?"

"Just what are you insinuating, Vargas?" Roderich snarled, having long since thrown courtesy out the window when dealing with this man.

"Insinuating something? Me? No, I am not insinuating anything. I am merely stating a fact, and the fact is that this manor should have never been yours-"

"What do you care?" Roderich snapped, "You hold nothing but contempt for my family, and played a part in my father's subsequent death! You ought to be rotting in jail, and you would be, if it wasn't from your filthy money! This manor is mine by _right_, and it is most certainly not your place to tell me anything otherwise inside the home of my forefathers. You know nothing, _Signore Vargas_!"

Vargas ignored him, visibly peeved, "The manor should have been left with Basch and Ludwig as sole benefactors, not you, the illegitimate spawn of a **whore**-!"

Roderich's eyes all but bulged from their sockets, so wide that they aided in the formation of a truly terrifying and morbid visage, one only heard of in horror novels as he uttered, in an eerie, breathless whisper, "Get out."

"-this should have been Gilbert's property, not the mansion of a bastard-borne 'aristocrat' who doesn't deserve-"

"_**Get out**_!" Roderich ordered more forcefully, a slight quaver in his voice. Vargas stopped, caught himself just in time, and stared at Roderich, not daring to believe the words that had just emerged from his mouth.

"Herr Edelstein... I-"

"**OUT!**" Roderich roared with sweltering fury, his bellow reverberating off the walls. Vargas' eyes widened at the sheer volume, not having known the extent of the full impact his words would have on the significantly younger man. He had no regrets, did not take back a single word of what he had said (for it was the truth), but at the same time, he had only said it for the sake of his grandchildren, and not out of baseless spite like the boy surely thought.

His anger briefly returning at the thought of Feliciana and Lovino, Vargas warned darkly, "You are going to regret this, Edelstein."

And with that being said, Vargas swept past him and opened the door, shutting it in silent anger as he promptly departed. Roderich stared at the wall in front of him blankly, slowly slinking back down into the armchair with an undignified plop. He placed his elbows on his knees and buried his head in his arms, his mauve-coloured eyes locked on the carpet beneath him.

He stayed in that position for a good while, unsure of how many hours he had spent there, doing nothing. A soft rap on the door briefly snapped him out of his reverie, his head lifting slightly as someone entered with light, dainty footsteps.

"_Herr Edelstein_?" Elizaveta's voice filled his ears soothingly, and Roderich turned his head to face her.

"_Fraülein Hédérváry._" Roderich greeted solemnly.

Her face mellowed out, "_Mein Herr_, I've been looking everywhere for you," she took in her surroundings, "May I inquire as to what you are doing here? I'd have thought you'd be in the music room. Wait a second," a suspicious glance, "you didn't get lost again, did you?"

In spite of himself, Roderich could not stop the huff of amusement that escaped him, "No, not this time. I've just had a little chat with _**Signore Vargas**_."

Elizaveta did not fail to detect the resentment and acerbity in her employer's voice. She frowned, "That's odd. I had actually just come to inform you that _Signore Vargas_ has left the premises, and bids his gift will make you reconsider... whatever that means."

_Gift? _Roderich wanted to order the destruction of whatever this 'gift' was, but instead focused on something else.

"He's only now just left?"

Elizaveta smiled bitterly, "He wished to bid his goodbyes to the children."

Roderich nodded in understanding, turning away from her slightly.

"You did a good thing, _mein Herr_. It was a most generous act, taking in those young _kinder_, and I'm sure the young master Ludwig will be pleased to have some new playmates-"

Roderich gave a noncommittal hum, gazing straight ahead and drowning out her voice as she twittered on about something or other. It was only when her words had fully registered in his mind that he did a double-take.

"What?" he questioned with a sharp intake of air.

"-and if you're worried about how you're supposed to act accordingly as a guardian, well, just look at Ludwig and Basch, how well they've turned out, and know that you have a whole staff who would be more than pleased to aid you with any child-rearing necessary-"

"_Fraülein Hédérváry_, forgive me for the impolite intrusion, but what on earth are you blabbering on about?"

Elizaveta blinked, her smile faltering ever-so-slightly, "Well... you know... about your agreement to offering asylum to those two Vargas children."

"What agreement?"

Realisation quickly dawned over his face, and a deep glower wormed its way onto his visage.

Elizaveta frowned, "Sir...?"

Roderich gritted his teeth together, "_**That malevolent son-of-a-whore**_!"

Elizaveta appeared aghast at such improper use of language from her usually mild-tempered, well-spoken employer, "_Herr Edelstein_!"

"_Fraülein Hédérváry_, I must ask that you remain calm. We shall be rid of this ghastly situation soon enough, I assure you-"

"_Mein Herr_, wha-"

"_Fraülein Hédérváry_, would you be so kind as to show me which room these 'children' are occupying?" Roderich demanded out of the blue.

Elizaveta stuttered, "S-sir?"  
Roderich stood upright in one quick, swift movement, already striding towards the door.

"Sir, I'm afraid I don't understand!"

Roderich's facial expression softened at the clueless expression etched upon Elizaveta's face and he elaborated, "I never agreed to Vargas' proposition, no matter what the sneaky dodger may claim, but it seems that this simple fact did nothing to deter the old fool from abandoning his 'grandchildren'. It appears I have no other choice but to return them to their rightful place, and if Vargas is too much of a malignant ingrate to accept them back, then we must entrust them to social services."

Elizaveta looked scandalised, "But sir-!"

"There is nothing we can do for them. You know just as well as I that this is no place for children," Roderich looked back at her a little sombrely, "Now, the chambers?"

Elizaveta nodded uneasily, brushing past Roderich and leading him up a few flights of stairs. The walk seemed to take an eternity, and it gave Roderich ample time to eye the slight jiggling Elizaveta's buttocks made as she sauntered forwards, her emerald eyes locked on something straight ahead. It was both captivating and hypnotising at the same time, the light bouncing her rear end made with each step she took, and no matter how hard he tried, Roderich found that he just could not look away. It was impossible to divert his attention, and Roderich could not fathom why he simply could not stop staring. Not that he was some sort of pervasive debauchee, of course! He just liked to admire beauty in all its forms...

They soon reached their destination and Roderich's eyes darted as far from Elizabeta as possible, staring past her to see a dark, oaken door sporting a large, brass doorknob. Elizabeta hesitated when they reached it, her hand on the doorknob as she tentatively grasped it.

"Sir, I- I have to know," she turned to face him, and Roderich soon found that she had trapped his eyes in an ensnaring staring competition, "What do you intend to do with them as of now?"

Roderich's eyebrows shot up, "I beg your pardon?"

"Please, _mein Herr_, tell me why you want to see them," Elizaveta spoke softly, almost pleading. Roderich didn't reply, merely gazing at her in stunned silence. Elizaveta misinterpreted his silence and took it as a bad sign, "No. No, please don't tell me you're going to do what I think you are."

Roderich queried quietly, "And what is it that you think I will do to them?"

Elizaveta shook her head, "Please don't throw them out. They're just toddlers, and it's far too late in the night to ever permit them to leave- tell me you aren't going to dump them at their grandfather's estate at this ungodly time?"

Roderich struggled to assure her, "You know I would never so much as fathom such a thing-"

"But why else would you want to see them?" the confusion was evident in Elizabeta's tone, a concerned frown etched upon her pretty visage, "If not to expel them from your home, why-"

Elizaveta stopped at the hands that were placed on either forearm, her green eyes boring holes into Roderich's purplish ones.

"Calm yourself, _Fraülein Hédérváry_. I merely wish to see them. Just to be sure..."

Staring at him a while longer, Elizaveta continued to eye him warily before giving off a slow nod of understanding, hurrying to open the door, pushing it forwards as slowly and quietly as possible. Light flooded the darkened room to land on a pair of toddlers slumbering peacefully in a single bed, huddled close together for warmth. Both Roderich and Elizaveta observed them through watchful eyes, Elizaveta's green ones glowing slightly at the sight. A warm smile graced her face.

"They look so... tranquil."

She received no immediate reply, and Roderich merely stared at the Vargas pair, noting that the girl's head rested in the crook of the boy's neck, who in turn laid his head over her own. Roderich didn't fail to catch their intertwined hands, clutching each other with a certain, tired air of desperation. It didn't take long for Roderich to deduce that they must be rather close siblings, and he could feel Elizaveta beside him all but brimming with veneration.

"Yes... yes they do." Roderich finally concurred, turning his gaze back on Elizabeta, "Come. Let us leave them in peace."

Elizaveta flashed one last smile at the room before tentatively turning away, letting Roderich close the door behind them.

He would exact revenge on Vargas soon enough, and would definitely be sure to dump his grandchildren at his doorstep.

But for now, he would let the children sleep, let them drift away into a land not of this world, a world where dreams were a reality and where reality was but a mere, simple nightmare.

**A/N: Hmm... not sure how this turned out. I just felt the need to update, because holy wow, I haven't updated in exactly five weeks now! There was actually something I wanted to address, so I'll do it now: the characters may be acting OOC, and if you feel that they are, please know that it is completely normal. At this point, I want to give them the chance to flourish and get a taste of character development to become the beloved characters we know (except not really, because this is an AU xD). Thank you all for the reviews/favourites/follows! Please tell me what you think so far, as feedback definitely helps both morale and chances of improvement (and I mean any kind of feedback). Thank-you for reading this, and until next time! :D**


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